When you write a book review, make it about the book, not about your petty issues with feminism and “lippy” women.
Carolyn See pens the review for a biography of Bella Abzug — but I have no idea what the book said, or if it was well-written, or anything about it at all. Because See spends the entire review writing things like this:
From the very beginning of her adult life, she had trouble working for anybody and soon set up her own office. She experienced insults about her appearance (she was chunky, and put on more weight as she got older), about her abrasive voice and her abusive personality, but it seemed to roll right off her most of the time. “I’m Bella’s oldest friend,” Mim Kelber, her speechwriter, remembers. “She liked herself too much, but I think you need that. She was very self-confident.” Except that later on, when she was a successful member of the House of Representatives, she broke down in tears at a political “roast,” when a man dressed up like her with a fat, padded fanny, and another man, impersonating her long-suffering husband, came out in a frilly apron.
…so you got that she was fat, right? Because she was fat. And a total bitch. Who cried about being fat.
She wanted to change the world and thought she could. She ran for the House from a section of Manhattan. She served, flamboyantly, for three terms, focused mainly on women’s issues and world peace. (Although how you fight for peace while punching and yelling remains an interesting question.)
No, you fight for peace by shutting the hell up and not offending Carolyn See’s delicate sensibilities.
But I’m going to add that very few people now actually remember what it was like during the period of the feminist movement. Everything was up for grabs. No one knew what to do or how to do it. Betty Friedan ruined a Super Bowl party in my very own home by wearing a black leather miniskirt and swinging her (not bad) legs clad in fishnet stockings back and forth in front of the TV screen so that nobody could see the plays. She radicalized a sizable bunch of neutral men into committed anti-feminists that day. Nobody knew what to do with these uppity, unpredictable women.
Uppity bitches are teh suck. At least sometimes they have nice legs, though.
She also makes the point of saying that she is against abortion “in principle.”
And what were they for, or against? Against the Vietnam War, of course. For legalized abortion. For equal pay for equal work. (As if!) For parity, true equality, with men. They even tried to peddle the Equal Rights Amendment, which would have given women equal rights — what a concept! — with men. Lots of men had conniption fits about this. If you were a second-rate fellow, who would there be for you to look down on? But lots of women hated the idea just as much. Who could they find to take care of them, if not men? The amendment never passed. And the movement began to wind down. The congresswomen of the day — Barbara Jordan, Shirley Chisholm, Abzug — died. Steinem got married. She’s a widow now. Friedan is gone, too. All those meetings, the huge international conferences, the tiny, exciting, consciousness-raising groups — it all simmered down. It’s still a safe bet that at 80 percent of all the dinner parties in every state across the nation, women know enough to be good listeners.
Bella Abzug screamed and yelled and hit people. She was appalled when both her daughters grew up to be lesbians. She wore those goofy hats and played poker. She could be snide, but often that got passed off as cute. Her terrible, lippy mouth caught up with her, kept her out of the Senate, even out of the office of mayor. She was mean, no doubt about it. But as with Malcolm X, her extremism could have helped clear the way for at least theoretical equality between the sexes. Is all this good, or not? It’s really too soon to know for sure.
Clearly See has staked out her position: Sexual equality between the sexes is, in her world, definitely not good. Except when it allows her to get a job at one of the nation’s leading newspapers. Read the whole piece if you want to feel your blood start to boil.